


Rediscovery

by sapphyr_raven



Series: Rebellion, Resignation, Revelation and Resolution [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphyr_raven/pseuds/sapphyr_raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing from the events of 'Resolution'...</p>
<p>Series Description:<br/>AU from season 4 - 'Glease'. Blaine and Kurt never made-up - Kurt, hurt by Blaine's transgression, cut himself off from his old life and refused any and all further contact leaving Blaine lost and broken in Lima. This is the tale of how rebellion, resignation, and revelations eventually led to their resolution. Or - how Kurt saved Blaine from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing Puzzle Piece

##    
Epilogue – Rediscovery

_A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened._

-       _Albert Camus_

###  Missing Puzzle Piece

            It is three in the morning when Kurt finally reappears in the Loft – he ends up accidentally walking in on Sue Sylvester and a man post-coitus, forces himself to swallow down the resultant bile, and writes a mental note to find out if _mind bleach_ is actually a thing.  One thing that is absolutely certain however is that he needs to wash his sheets…possibly to burn them, and the bed while he is at it.  Why she chose _his_ bed is beyond him, however, the lack of Rachel, Santana, Doug, or any of the others who had rallied together for Rachel’s big night (and he has no idea how he is even going to begin to apologise for missing the second half yet!) concerns him more in the immediate.

He checks his cell to find the battery (unsurprisingly) dead.  Shooting a glare at a frustratingly nonchalant Sue, he manages to find a spare charger cable down the side of the sofa and hurriedly plugs the device in.  Once he deems it to have charged enough he turns it on and it immediately lights up with messages ranging from panic and anger (Rachel), to concern and threats (Santana), as well as 22 missed calls.  He listens to the last voicemail (from a very drunk sounding Rachel who spends the majority of the call thinking she had hung up and bitching about him being a terrible friend to an equally drunk sounding, giggling Santana) before deleting all of the others without listening to them.  Kurt is about to put his phone down in order to attempt to tackle the Sue-of-it-all when the phone vibrates in his hand.

**Blaine:** I miss you already. :-( Am I allowed to say that? - Bx

His face hurts before he had even registered that he was smiling and he hurriedly taps out a response without thinking about it too much.  He knows he will regret it later, but in that instant he just _needs_ to share his pain with someone.

**Kurt:** I miss you too.  Come and rescue me! Sue and some guy just had sex in my bed, Blaine.  He’s wearing my dressing gown. I’m going to have to burn it. I liked that dressing gown.

**Blaine:** :-(  I’ll get you a new one.  Try not to set the building alight. I’ll be your alibi. – Bx

**Blaine:** Are the others back? – Bx

**Kurt:** No. Had a load of drunkdials from Rachel though so I’m Screwed when they get in. Maybe I should move Sue and her beau into Rachel’s bed.  That’d distract them!

**Blaine:** As amusing as that would be… don’t do that. I’m not home yet – I could be with you in 20? - Bx

**Kurt:** Don’t worry I’ll handle it. You have enough to think about.

**Blaine:** I love you. – Bx

**Kurt:** I love you too.  Scratch that – I was wrong - come over.

**Blaine:** As much as I want to, somehow I think you’re right. Not the best idea at the moment. – Bx

**Kurt:** But you could help me get Sue back.

**Blaine:** Tempting… - Bx

**-+-**

 

            ‘So spill, Hummel, and quickly before Her Majesty emerges from her shower.  She’s pretty hung-over so you better be quick if you want my help.’  Santana’s voice is altogether too loud and Kurt cringes as he sits up slowly in response to her physically moving his feet from the couch in order to make room for herself.  ‘Why are you sleeping on the couch anyway?’

            ‘Sue had sex in my bed.’

            ‘Wanky.’

            ‘Yeah… thanks for the emotional support but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d done it all over the place so…’

            ‘Did you check the couch?’

He rolls his eyes and groggily reaches for the steaming mug Santana must have provided before inhaling the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans.

            ‘You’re welcome.  Now – what was so important?’  She stared at him as a viper does its prey.

            ‘Doug didn’t say?’

            ‘Nope.  The boy went all wide-eyed faux innocent on me.’

            ‘That has to be a first.  You not getting something you want out of someone…  Perhaps he’s immune to you.’

            ‘Yeah, well – maybe I just let Berry get the deets from you herself…I mean it was obviously really important, right?’  The Latina stands and makes to leave with a mischievous look in her eyes.

            ‘Sit down, Satan.’  Kurt takes a sip of his coffee as his friend returns to her place beside him.  He has known her long enough now to know how to play her games.  ‘Look – I…I had something I needed to sort out, alright?  I would _really_ appreciate it if you could help cover for me.’

            ‘Three shifts at the Diner – you cover for me, I cover for you.’

            ‘Two.’

            ‘Fine, two.  A week.’

            ‘For one month.’

            ‘Deal.’

            ‘Deal.’

            ‘So… you going to tell me the truth at least?’

            ‘Wasn’t part of the deal.’  He grins.

            ‘It was the Hobbit, right?  You two get your guilty, twisted mack on again?’  She makes to pull on his collar in an effort to check for hickeys, but he manages to stand and heads over towards his room.

            ‘Not part of the deal, Santana.  Are they….?’

            ‘No.  They’re gone I think.  Berry kicked them out.  Thought they were going to wake you actually but it ended up being weirdly civil.  I think our girl may have actually grown up.’

            ‘I think you’re right….’

            ‘Want some help disinfecting?’

            ‘Oh, god, yes.’

 

-+-

 

            The place is dark when he lets himself in, but he quickly realises that the lights are on in the sitting room.  He does not need to enter to know what will be waiting for him – he is not proud of that fact either.  This scene has played out too many times in the past year for Blaine’s liking.  Steeling himself he walks in already reciting from his well-worn script. 

            ‘Douglas, I’m so sorry but I –’

            ‘See, I told you he’d be back, Diggs.’

The voice is chalk and ash and distinctly _not_ Douglas. 

            ‘I…I didn’t realise you had company.  Good morning, Dr. Richmond.’

            ‘Well someone needed to talk Diggs here out of going out looking for you.  Someone needed to support your fiancé in your stead.  Just what was so important that you take off without even a message?’ 

Blaine gapes then and turns to look to his fiancé utterly dumbfounded but Douglas makes no move to speak or interject on Blaine’s behalf.  It rankles him.

            ‘I am not certain how that’s any of your business.  I thank you for coming over, but I really must talk to _my_ fiancé alone now.  Surely you have surgery in the morning?  Wouldn’t want this to impact on your very important work; you could accidentally kill someone.’ 

There is a moment when he thinks that he has assessed the situation correctly – Adrian stands and Blaine relaxes slightly expecting the doctor to take his leave – he could not have been more wrong.

            ‘I’m not going anywhere young man.’ 

            ‘Excuse me?  I wasn’t aware that there were three people in this relationship!’

            ‘Or are there four?’

            ‘That’s enough, both of you.’  Douglas’ interjection is weak and tired and serves only to induce a self-satisfied grin upon Adrian’s face.  Blaine glowers from one man to the other.  ‘Thank you for coming over Ade but I’d like to talk to Blaine alone now.  I’ll call tomorrow.’

            ‘Are you sure?’  The doctor deflates a little but Douglas makes no move and Adrian nods slightly in acquiescence before leaving without another word.

Blaine focuses on breathing in and out slowly in an effort to slow down his racing pulse.  The blood is rushing in his ears and he is acutely aware that the pressure within him is building to a dangerous level.  He realises that he is still glaring at the now closed door a little too slowly for his liking.  He feels off-balance – blindsided in the place that was supposed to be his home.  He needs time to process the evening’s events; he needs time to think.  He does not need this.

            ‘Don’t, Blaine.’

The words freeze him and he pauses midway between reaching for the crystal decanter.  The choice is there – plain for all to see.  He can stop what he is doing as Douglas had commanded, or he can continue and risk tipping this odd situation into something he is more familiar with.  He takes familiarity over this unsettling unknown.

            ‘Would you like one?’

            ‘No.  No I don’t want a drink.  You don’t need one either, just… for god’s sake, Blaine, look at me!’

            ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’  Blaine’s hands are oddly steady as he concentrates on purposefully removing the crystal stopper from the half-full decanter causing tiny fragmented rainbows to dance across the surface of the projected amber puddle of light.

            ‘I know you didn’t.  You never do.’

The softness of the other man’s voice feels like a knife in Blaine’s chest.  There is an acute pain behind his eyes and he knows that all of the stress and tension, frustration and hurt is about to bubble up from within him like a geyser.  Yet, somehow the liquid amber pours smoothly into the tumbler without a drop wasted.

            ‘What was _he_ doing here anyway?  Where does he get off talking to me like that in my own home, Douglas?  You should have said something.’

Douglas’ dark eyes follow his movements as Blaine finishes pouring himself a drink before dropping into the seat the doctor had recently vacated.  He drinks partly to burn away the pressure in his head, but mainly to give Douglas a chance to interject – to agree that he should have stood up for his fiancé.  The crystal is empty before another word is uttered and Blaine feels each torturous tick from the skeleton clock as a strike against his own bones.  It is not a competition; he knows that intellectually, but it does not change the fact that whoever speaks next loses.  He sits and seethes in stilted silence.  How dare Adrian slither back into Douglas’ life after how he treated him!  How dare they sit and discuss him as if he is some wayward child!  How dare –

            ‘I had a call while I was waiting for you… I…for one awful moment I thought…I thought….  That doesn’t matter.  It wasn’t about you.  It was Father.  Oliver says that his doctor recommends that family make their way back to see him….’

The words drench Blaine’s internal inferno so thoroughly even the embers die in that moment; his tongue tastes of bitter ash.

            ‘Do you want to go?’  The words come out stronger than he had expected, but Douglas seems too tired to notice.

            ‘I don’t know.  I really don’t know.’

            ‘That’s why Adrian was…because you needed me and I wasn’t here.’  The pieces click together almost audibly and Blaine feels colour flood his cheeks with palpable shame and disgust.

            ‘Ade…Adrian is trying to make up for the past.  He’s…he’s trying a little too hard and he had no right to talk to you like that, Blaine –’

            ‘-He _cares_.’

            ‘Yes; in his own way, I think he does.’

            ‘I’m glad you had that this evening.’ 

Douglas nods slightly in acknowledgement but it does nothing to ease the dull ache blooming in Blaine’s tight chest.

‘Did you sort it out?’

            ‘I’m sorry?  Sort what out?’  Douglas’ change of topic effectively derails Blaine’s internal berating long enough for him to finally glance up to meet the other man’s molten eyes.

            ‘Whatever it was that was so important with Kurt.’  Douglas prompts softly.

            ‘How –’

            ‘I’m not stupid, Blaine.’

            ‘I never said that you were…’ 

And there it is…the moment that Douglas calls him out?  Surely this is it.  But how can Douglas look so calm and accepting?  Does he know?  Can he possibly know?

            ‘So?  It is sorted now?’  Douglas inches closer as if to close the gap between them – as if to cross the wide channel imposed by the overstuffed armchairs.  Blaine tries not to flinch backwards in response.

            ‘I…I don’t know what you’re asking me.’  Soft chocolate eyes seem to almost embrace him, but Douglas’ words make no sense.  Blaine’s mind frantically scrambles for some purchase – for something that makes sense…

            ‘You’ve been so absent recently.  Even when you’re here you’re not really _here_.  I spoke to June – she said your duet with Kurt was a bad idea.  The two of you need to get a grip.  You want to be performers?  Fine.  Act like professionals and perform – you can’t let personal clashes get in the way; look at Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton!  There is more at stake here Blaine than you can even begin to comprehend – it is not just about you; other people are involved here.  June’s putting a lot on the line for you –’

            ‘-You don’t think I know that?’

            ‘Do you?’  Douglas glances from the empty tumbler in Blaine’s hand to the decanter, before turning slightly again to better face him.  ‘I…June is worried about you.  She thinks you’re drinking too much and I think that’s at least partly my fault.  I…I don’t see you as a child Blaine, you know that.  I’ve always…I try to give you freedom to make your own choices.  I don’t want to rule your life; I’m not your father, but I am your partner.  Do you understand?  Sometimes I feel like we’re from two completely different worlds – I wonder if we even speak the same language.  But there are times when you look at me, or you’ll say something, and you completely blow me away.  You make me _feel_ again.  You make me believe that I can still be someone even at my age. 

‘You were _miserable_ , Blaine, and I had no idea how to make it better and it terrified me.  I should have been able to say something – _do_ something… 

‘When you are performing you come alive again and I will do everything in my power to facilitate that… I trust that you know what you’re doing here.  If you say Kurt is the person to duet with – he’s the person to duet with and I told June just that…  So, I’ll ask you again - did you and Kurt hash it out?’

Douglas’ hand had somehow wound its way into Blaine’s and he honestly had no idea who had instigated the contact. 

            ‘I…yes.  Yes we-’

            ‘-Good.’  The interruption is unexpected; the finality of the clipped word thuds against Blaine’s chest like a wooden battering-ram.

            ‘It’s –’ 

            ‘-No.  Enough for now.  Come to bed, darling.  You look as exhausted as I feel.’  Douglas stands and gently prises the crystal from Blaine’s unfeeling hand.  He finds himself dumbly watching as Douglas picks up two mugs (and with it the remnants of Adrian’s presence).  Something buzzes insistently in the back of his mind however – something Adrian said.  The number Four.  Blaine feels like his is in Sesame Street with the Count for an awful moment.  He remains seated until Douglas returns to turn off the lights, takes his hand and pulls him up from the relative comfort of the chair. 

            ‘What did Adrian mean by “four”?’

            ‘Do you want to do this now, Blaine?’

            ‘I think we may have to.’

Douglas sighs audibly before pulling Blaine towards him so that the younger man’s head is nestled against his chest.  The sound of Douglas’ heart is somehow soothing – it sounds whole and healthy, not broken, not bruised…

            ‘Let’s get some rest, come on.  There’s plenty to discuss tomorrow after we’ve had some sleep.’

He takes Douglas’ hand and, on tiptoes, kisses him softly on the cheek.  Dropping back down to his usual height he takes a shallow breath before finding his lips sealed by Douglas’. 

 

-+-

 

            Kurt’s stomach swoops as he fixes his hair in the mirror for what felt like the fourth time in as many minutes.  After Santana had helped him to strip his bed sheets with Marigold-armoured hands, they had been joined by a silent Rachel, and still obviously half-asleep Doug in a group cleaning party.  Once the loft was once again cleansed of any trace of Sue, Santana had grabbed Rachel’s arm and proclaimed a trip to the newsvendor was in order.  The four of them had stood waiting anxiously while Doug had purchased one of each morning paper with an Arts and Entertainment section.

            ‘Don’t you think we should call the others?  They did come to see you last night…’  Doug had asked as he handed the pile over to Rachel.  She had simply shaken her head and handed the pile over to Kurt, who had passed them like a primed grenade to Santana. 

Dutifully their friend had read aloud each of the predominantly positive reviews.  After the cooing had finally stopped and Kurt had reached his tolerance for questioning side-eye from both Doug and Santana, he made his excuses and had headed to NYADA.  In a fit of whimsy he called via his favourite café and had ordered two drinks to go; which was why he was now flitting about in the rehearsal room waiting with two rapidly cooling beverages laid out like an offering before him.

_Peace or sacrifice?_

His eyes wander from doors to mirrors back to the clock again.  The rehearsal had been due to start over fifteen minutes ago – Blaine had _never_ been late before.  Kurt tries not to dwell on the fact that Blaine’s frustrating time keeping had actually been a bone of contention until then.

The sharp click of heels alerts him before the door swings open to reveal June Dalloway, and behind her, Blaine.  Kurt’s eyes flicker to the two coffees cooling on the table before him and he immediately wants to hide them from the all-seeing avian eyes of Blaine’s patron.  What would she read in them?  An innocent beverage?  An offering?  Would she be resentful that he had not considered her (ignoring the fact he had not been expecting her – that was actually confirmation enough right there!)?  

Kurt is brought from his internal fluster by June’s impatient

            ‘Are you waiting for something?’

He opens his mouth to retort but Blaine steps in before the words emerge.

            ‘We usually warm up first, June.  Why don’t you go and find Carmen?  She’s probably in her office and I’m sure she’d like to see a copy of my proposed line-up for the event?  We’ll be fifteen minutes.’ 

The older woman gives Blaine a look that Kurt does not quite understand before she nods once and leaves without giving Kurt a glance.

Once the gunshots of her heels striking the floors are mere echoes again Blaine seems to crumple slightly.

            ‘Sorry we’re late, Kurt.  June – she came by the penthouse and I’d overslept.  I’m sorry.  Things were a little fraught last night when I got back.  How did…how did Rachel -?’

            ‘Rachel’s not talking to me, but Santana’s on side, and Doug is…he’s weirdly loyal so I think he’s not going to say anything – not that he knows anything beside that we talked then didn’t come back.’

            ‘You told Santana?’

            ‘No - I don’t have a death wish.’

            ‘Oh...okay.  Good.’  Blaine swallows dryly.  ‘I…I didn’t see anything in the news about a fire or crispy corpses so I’m guessing you managed to resolve the Sue situation peacefully?’

            ‘Apparently Rachel kicked them out in the end, but I was too tired to deal with it at the time.  Santana provided rubber gloves and assisted with the disposal of the…evidence.  I just need some therapy but I think I’ll be fine.’

Kurt hands Blaine one of the cardboard cups and the smile he induces makes Kurt instantly regret his next words but he _needs_ to know.

            ‘How did it go with Douglas?’

            ‘We didn’t…  Look – June…’  Another heavy swallow; a tongue peeks out over dry lips, his eyebrows draw straight lines, and teeth catch his bottom lip.  He clears his throat.  ‘We should practice.’

            _I thought we were…_

The echo is almost a physical presence mingling with the aroma of coffee and something inside Kurt twists painfully.  It is Blaine’s hand on his arm which, yet again, stops his feet from moving.  He forces himself to turn to face the other man; forces himself to meet swirling amber eyes.  Blaine clears his throat again, but Kurt makes no move.  Their breath is synched; the air saturated with coffee and sparking with polish. 

            ‘I promise we’ll talk after this rehearsal.  I promise, Kurt.’

Kurt nods but does not trust his treacherous mouth to talk, so he waits in silence as Blaine gently squeezes Kurt’s arm, before releasing him and walking over to take his place by the piano.

            Blaine’s hands float of their own accord across the keys – black and white notes in clusters of major and minor chords crescendo and diminuendo around him - as inevitable and automatic as waves against unfeeling cliffs.  Blaine’s thoughts are elsewhere.

Kurt’s pure voice joins his as they climb scales in harmony together.  Rising and falling; floating and soaring in an andante aria – safe and structured.  Through this outlet Kurt lets his consciousness pour into the meaningless “fa”s and “la”s, “te”s and “me”s.  He catches Blaine’s golden eyes with his own and tries to _show_ him his thoughts and feelings without the frustration of words.  He shows him his pain and anguish, his joy and hope.  He shares these offerings the only way he knows how, and Blaine responds to him as beautifully as he always had.  Blaine’s eyes are two shining candles for Kurt, and he can almost feel every sweet kiss, taste every soft sigh again, as if they were living things; precious and perfect.

 

-+-

 

            _It had seemed natural to call Adrian (though the other man’s sleepy voice and Douglas’ subsequent realisation of the late hour had made him instantly regret his actions).  Adrian had, for once, dropped everything for Douglas and had appeared shortly after the call with a slightly crumpled box of chocolates and a pained expression on his face._

_‘I panicked.’  Adrian offered in explanation of the gift._

_‘I see that…’_

_‘Is…where’s your Blaine?’_

_‘I honestly have no idea, Ade.’_

_Adrian had taken over then and Douglas had found himself telling the other man everything – about Project Narcissus and his stress over the Fosker project in London; about Blaine and his emotional (and now physical) distance; about June and his feeling of inadequacy that she was able to give Blaine what he, his fiancé, could not.  He spoke of his relationship with his father – his father’s illness, and the phone call from Oliver; about his mother and how things had been left between them the last time he had seen her at the “engagement party”.  All his deepest concerns that had been hounding him for months surfaced like a column of bubbles, and Adrian listened.  He listened while Douglas had paced, the words flowing from him uncontrolled and free._

_The kiss had been inevitable, he supposes.  Adrian had been_ there _, and Douglas had been emotionally raw and exhausted and a thousand other roaring emotions besides.   But it was not an excuse.  He had known that there was_ something _going on when Adrian had been so keen to reconnect over the past weeks.  He had known, deep down, during that first dinner they had shared all those months ago. Had that been why he had not told Blaine of the meeting until it was too late and the damage had been done?  Had Blaine seen the future in them then?_

_It had been chaste, at least at first – a comfort – but he had not pulled away as he should have.  He had not stopped it and it had quickly escalated.  It felt so right to be wanted, and he was wanted, desperately._

_But…Hands that had once been so familiar, that had once been_ home _, were now so very different - skin no longer firm and elastic.  So very different, so very_ wrong _.  Was this how he felt to Blaine? No different than the crumpled paper of his drawings rasping against the perfect hide wrapped tight over firm desktop?_

_Adrian had pressed him hard then against the mantle behind them._

_‘Let me look after you, Diggs.  Let me worship you like I should have been doing for the last fifteen years.  Let me –’_

_The words were dry and desperate, and Douglas found himself kissing back – kissing the man he had loved as if he were the answer to all his problems rather than their antithesis.  The reaction from Adrian had been instantaneous._

_Only Blaine’s return had applied the brakes.  The sound of the front door opening had made him feel so instantly dirty as he pushed Adrian from himself, scuttling for the armchair to hide the painfully obvious evidence of his arousal._

_Adrian’s treatment of Blaine had been a defensive reaction – Douglas knows that now.  But there was truth there.  A truth he was not ready to think about let alone discuss.  Did he even have a choice anymore?_

His head aches as he stares down at the paper before him – Penny had helpfully begun to look at the logistics behind the inevitable move to London.  The dates swirl before his eyes until he can no longer bear to look at them and so instead turns his attention to gaze from his office window onto the busy street below. 

The harsh buzz of the intercom pulls him back into the room and he reaches to answer the phone to stop the noise more than to actually engage with the person on the other end of the call.

Penny’s voice is altogether too bright to be legal and he grimaces as he listens to her insistence that there was a gentleman on the other line who wished to speak with him.

            ‘I don’t know anyone of that name.’

            ‘He says you know his daughter.’

It takes a moment for the haze to clear and he recalls the blonde actress from the previous evening – her father had been an investor?  Was that right?

            ‘Oh.  I think I know.  Put him through, Penny.  Thank you.’

 

-+-

 

            The applause is an explosion of fireworks and Kurt glances up to find June and Carmen beaming at them.  He feels like he is suffering from vertigo – or perhaps he fell down a rabbit hole?  Maybe this is the Twilight Zone? 

A glance to Blaine finds his…friend?...equally guppy-mouthed.

            ‘Now see, June, what did I tell you?  _That_ is what you were missing.  _That_ is what your Blaine here saw.’

            ‘I have to admit, Carmen – I may have been wrong about these two - and I am _never_ wrong.  Blaine – a word please.’

Kurt watches as Blaine hurries to follow June from the room and finds himself standing before the grinning NYADA dean once again.

            ‘Whatever that was, Mr. Hummel – that was why you’re here.  Remember that.’  She places a hand softly on his shoulder before turning to follow the others from the room, leaving Kurt staring dumbly at the door.


	2. Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Anxiety attacks, Physical violence (mild)

### Phoenix

 

            ‘What exactly was that, Blaine?’  June’s eyes are narrowed and Blaine is _so_ not ready for this discussion.  He feels as if he had been caught naked doing something he should not have been – hand fully and unmistakably in the cookie jar.  June reads something in his face and she purses her lips in response.

‘I’m sure I have no idea what you’re implying.’  He may as well have had cookie crumbs around his mouth, and another two in his other hand.

            ‘Oh no?’  Her smile is a cat’s.  ‘I know you’re not asking me this but I’m telling you – you should stop playing with that boy.  Break it off with him.’

            ‘But…there’s nothing to break.  Kurt and I are f–’

            ‘-Oh, spare me.  Blaine, I’ve been in and out of love more times than you’ve had breakfast.  You have to make a decision: are you going to settle, or, are you going to venture out into the known like a samurai and realise your full, full potential?’  She gives him a slow look-over before she continues and Blaine finds himself involuntarily straightening under her scrutiny.  ‘Douglas Chambers is a good match for you.  It is a name that opens doors and if you choose to go backwards I’m not sure I can help you.  Now – I’m not saying you shouldn’t perform this last time with that boy.  But this will be the last time, Blaine.  Your showcase will be your ticket to greater things.  You do still want that, right?’

            ‘Yes, of course, yes –’

            ‘-Then that’s the last of it.  Now go back out there and turn on that charisma of yours.  Show me I’m making the right decision here.  I just want to shine a light on what the world should see.’

 

-+-

 

            Kurt spins 180 degrees when the door re-opens suddenly behind him and an oddly determined Blaine stalks back into the room.

            ‘What happened?’

            ‘It’s nothing; June just wanted to go over the seating arrangements.’  Kurt shoots Blaine a look, but the other man is already shuffling through sheet music on top of the piano; eyes downcast and brow furrowed.

Kurt studies Blaine for a moment as the other man busies himself but makes no move to actually restart their rehearsal.  A part of Kurt is glad – he hates to admit it to himself but he is not wholly sure what just happened between them, and the fact that Blaine seems uncertain also is a small kind of comfort.  What he really needs right now is time to process, ideally _with_ Blaine, and not to continue this sham practice session.

            ‘Do you want to call the rehearsal off?’

            ‘What?  No!’  At the sound of Kurt’s voice the other man actually looks up for the first time since their warm-up had been interrupted.  Blaine runs a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes focusing on Kurt’s.  ‘Look, I’m sorry it keeps getting…derailed.  No more interruptions, alright?’  Blaine’s smile barely reaches his lips let alone his eyes and Kurt huffs, frowning in response.

            ‘It’s not that… it’s just…what’s wrong, Blaine?  We promised to be open and honest with each other last night and I just keep getting this feeling that you’re not telling me something –’

            ‘You still don’t trust me do you?’  Blaine sighs deeply – he looks so _tired_ all of a sudden.  ‘Kurt, this is not even about you, alright?  Just drop it and let’s rehearse.’

            ‘No.  You know what – I…I thought after last night that things would be different.  I guess you had me fooled, yet again.  Enjoy your secrets, Blaine.  I’m out.  I don’t need this.  I deserve better – you said so yourself.’  Kurt knows it is dramatic but he cannot help spinning on his heel and striding in the direction of the exit.

            ‘Kurt, don’t…don’t go, please.’  He hears Blaine move to follow him.  Perhaps it is that that causes him to pause.  He turns again slowly to find Blaine standing right behind him – so close; so painfully, exquisitely close.

            ‘Why?  Give me one good reason.’ 

Blaine’s eyes flicker from Kurt’s eyes to lips and back again before he seems to think better of whatever he was about to do and takes an uncertain step backwards.

            ‘You know why, Kurt.’  His voice is an exhale.

            ‘You need me for this performance.  You said that already: I know.’  Kurt takes a step towards Blaine.  He half expects him to back away.  He half expects (needs/wants) him to crash their lips together.

            ‘Not that.’  Blaine’s eyes catch Kurt’s own again, holding them – the light that was there when they had been singing is missing now and he can almost see himself reflected they are that dark.

Kurt takes a breath.

            ‘Because: You Love Me.  You still love me, but you’re still-’  Kurt’s hand falters as he finds himself reaching to touch Blaine – whether to make sure he is real, anchor him, caress him, or strangle him Kurt is uncertain.   

            ‘-I promised we’d talk about it after rehearsal –’

            ‘-No.  You know what?  I think we’re done here.  We’re not going to get anywhere today with the duet now; not like this.  Come to the Loft – we should have it to ourselves.  Rachel and Doug are supposed to be -’

            ‘-How about my place?’

            ‘The penthouse that you share with-?’

            ‘-No.  My place.  Absolutely no one will be there: I have the only key.’

Kurt raises an eyebrow but before he can pose any further questions Blaine is back at the piano packing sheet music into his satchel. 

 

-+-

 

            ‘This looks a lot like 5th Avenue, Blaine…and I’m pretty sure that’s your building.’  The taxi stops just outside and Kurt is about to shoot Blaine another of his _looks_ when Blaine’s

            ‘Do you trust me?’

catches him by surprise.

            ‘Who are you?  Aladdin?’

            ‘I _can_ show you the world…’  Blaine waggles his eyebrows a little and Kurt finds himself laughing, caught up for a moment in memories of ridiculous duets back in Blaine’s bedroom in Westerville a lifetime ago.  His breath catches a little in response – _that_ was his Blaine right there: a little ridiculous and playful, not the strange, serious imposter he had begun to grow used to.

            ‘Oh, I’m sure you can, goof.’

He is grinning as he slides out of the taxi before Blaine can do something inappropriate and absurd like get the door for him (even if he would _love_ that).  It is only when he is being ushered inside by a green velvet doorman that he realises he left Blaine to pay for the cab fare.

Blaine is soon back by his side (where he belongs) and Kurt finds himself following as they head to the ornate lift in a silence that prickles the air with static electricity.  The lift stops and Kurt follows Blaine towards a set of doors that he recognises from the previous time he had visited.  He is about to say something sarcastic when Blaine instead takes a sharp turn left and uses the key on a door that Kurt had previously ignored.

            ‘Guest apartment.’  Blaine offers by way of explanation.  ‘He…he gave it to me legally so I’d have my own place after I…after I fell out with my parents.  Sylvia (our housekeeper) had the only other key but I got it back while he was in China and I…’

Blaine is rambling; Kurt is dimly aware that Blaine is still talking, but he is too distracted by the magnificence of the place that he tunes out for a moment.  It is similar to the Penthouse proper in many ways; however, there is a fine layer of dust that plays testimony to the bit about the housekeeper. 

Only after the initial shock settles and Kurt slips back into his skin does he realise that Blaine has fallen silent.  Dragging his eyes away from the furnishings he manages to remind himself why he is presently standing in such majestic, if dusty, circumstances.

            ‘Sorry.’

            ‘It’s fine, Kurt.’  A half-smile.

            ‘You never said.’ 

            ‘It didn’t really come up.’

            ‘No.  I suppose it didn’t.’

Blaine holds out his hand and Kurt goes to take it before he realises that Blaine was in fact waiting to take Kurt’s coat.  He cringes a little as he divests himself of the garment before masking his chagrin by making for the kitchen area.  Blaine moves like a shadow behind him and Kurt watches as Blaine brushes lightly passed him and sets about making coffee.

With Blaine distracted momentarily and Kurt is really free to look, he catalogues details about the other man and compares them to his internal notes.  Most glaring are the little changes – the things that can be easily emphasised or disguised by tailored clothes as desired.  Down to a simple (but elegant) shirt and divested of the layers of coats and vests that Kurt had started to grow accustomed to, he can see now that he was right: Blaine’s back is broader; his hips perfectly narrow in contrast; his ass is firm and glorious.  Kurt loses himself in the last time he had run his hands over the defined planes of Blaine’s chest and finds that he _desperately_ needs to check that what his memory provides him with in that instant is an accurate portrayal.

He is brought abruptly from his fantasy when he notices the funny look Blaine is giving him from where the other man is now stood over in the open-plan living area.  Kurt swallows and, praying that his arousal is not too obvious in his skinny jeans, heads over to quickly take a seat on the sofa.

            ‘Are you alright, Kurt?’  Another small smile.

            ‘You promised you’d talk.’  Kurt covers.

Blaine squints slightly at him before taking a seat beside Kurt on the sofa - their thighs brush though the sofa is plenty big enough for three.  Dust motes, freed by the movement, dance around them - sparkling in the warm light that surrounds Blaine like a halo. 

            ‘About last night?’

            ‘Last night.’  Kurt parrots.  ‘I mean… the after-bit; not the bit where… when you got back.’

            ‘Adrian was there when I got in…it was…I want to say awkward but I don’t think that really captures it.’

            ‘Were they…?’

            ‘Oh, no!  Nothing like that.  At least…I don’t _think_ so.  I mean – _Adrian_ wants that.  It’s obvious –’

            ‘-Maybe you should let him.’

            ‘Kurt, it’s not that simple,’ Blaine admonishes.

            ‘You keep saying that but it could be!’

            ‘You’re saying I, what?  Say “sorry Douglas, we’ve had a swell time together.  Thanks for the ring and the apartment but I’m off to be with Kurt now.  Don’t worry though – Adrian’s right there waiting outside door number 2!”?’ 

            ‘Well it makes it easier for you doesn’t it?’

            ‘His father is _dying_ , Kurt.  His father is really dying and I…I wasn’t there for him when he needed me because I was with you.’

            ‘I wasn’t there for Rachel because I chose you.’

            ‘Please don’t…  That’s not…’  Blaine’s hand flutters to the back of his neck again as it had in the rehearsal room, squeezing slightly as if to alleviate an imagined pain as he stumbles through half-processed half-rejected thoughts.  ‘I’m trying… I’m trying to explain to you how utterly messed up this is – you said it should be simple.  I really wish it was but it isn’t.’

            ‘You are not responsible for other people’s happiness.  It is not _your_ fault Douglas’ father is dying; whether you were with him or not that would happen.  You can’t marry someone because their father is dying.’

            ‘I know that.’

            ‘Do you?  Because all I hear at the moment is that he “needs you” and I don’t.  Guess what, Blaine, that’s a big ol’ sign right there – I don’t need you; I _love_ you.  There is a difference.’

            ‘He loves me too, Kurt.’

            ‘He must do.’  Kurt knows he said the wrong thing the second he utters the last syllable.

            ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

            ‘Blaine, I just… I can’t compete with _this_.  He can give you _everything_ and all I can offer you is me.  If that’s enough for you – well… I’m _here_.  I’m right here, and if that can be enough for you then I think we could really have another shot at this, because I love you exactly as you are.  I don’t want you to change for me.  I don’t want you to rescue me, or to save me because you did that already – you saved me, and I think you need me to do the same for you right now, Blaine.  So, like I said last night: I love you.  I love you enough to respect whatever choice you make but you do have to choose.’

 

-+-

 

            _Across from him Blaine’s eyes are shining.  They’re both silent-crying and Kurt resents Blaine a little in that moment for not being an ugly crier – Kurt knows that he looks nowhere near his best; tear-stained and red-faced as he must appear.  Blaine’s foot touches his and Kurt stares numbly at where their shoes meet across the concrete space between them._

_‘I love you, Kurt Hummel.  I have always loved you, and I think I always will.’_

_The words are everything he has longed to hear, and Blaine’s voice reverberates through him, strong and firm.  Kurt glances up, but the other man makes no move to close the distance between them.  For a dreadful moment Kurt honestly fears he has finally lost his mind – surely they should be kissing?  That is how it works isn’t it?  Had Blaine actually spoken or had it been a figment of his desperate imagination?_

_Once, a long time ago, a younger Blaine had said the same words to him as they lay tangled in each other and the rumpled sheets of his bed.  Younger Kurt had been breathless in that moment; his reply a wordless kiss so deep he had lost all sense of where Blaine had begun and he had ended – a vain attempt to convey half-understood feelings that Kurt had honestly believed he would never experience first-hand._

_Cheeks newly, and endlessly wet, Kurt fists his eyes with the palms of his hands.  As they had before, words fail him – he wrestles with the sarcastic retort his self-defence mechanism provides him with, and is left only with the truth._

_‘I want to kiss you so badly, Blaine.’_

_‘Please kiss me.’_

_‘We shouldn’t.’_

_‘I know…’_

_‘What do we do?’_

_‘Honestly?  I have no idea.’_

_‘You love me.’_

_‘I love you.’  The confirmation is devastating._

_‘I l-love you t-too.’  It feels so far from a victory – he is drowning and Blaine has the only life raft.  No: he_ is _the only life raft._

_Kurt’s breath comes in short staccato sobs; his vision tunnelling into greys and blacks.  He is falling now; down into a darkness that is writhing, rising up to swallow him whole.  He cannot hope to survive this storm within him._

_After his vision he loses his hearing to the roaring pounding of the waves.  He is a thousand pieces of flotsam.  Blaine is a tidal wave._

_Blaine is a tidal wave and Kurt wants to surrender._

_‘Please…’_ don’t marry him.  _The words die in Kurt’s strangled throat.  He coughs air into his burning lungs and forces himself to breathe…in…_

_…out…_

_…in…_

_…out…_

_…in…_

_…out..._

_When he looks up his vision swims back to the surface._

_Blaine’s head is bowed, his hands loosening dark curls as long fingers worrying his scalp.  Within the nest of dark waves a glint of silver and gold turns Kurt’s stomach and he stands suddenly; the cold metal railing biting his fingers as his knuckles turn white._

_‘I need some air.’  His voice grates, lagging his jerking body as he flees down the fire escape, bursting out into the stifling New York air and barely missing a passing couple._

_Blaine clatters after him._

_‘Kurt!  Stop!  Wait!  Kurt, please!’_

_Laughing uncontrollably he spins.  Blaine’s hands bracket him, fingers curled into the fabric of Kurt’s blazer hard enough to crease.  He is not sure whether it is Blaine shaking, himself, or both of them together._

_‘I am such an idiot.’_

_‘What?’  Blaine squints at him as if Kurt is speaking another language all of a sudden.  Perhaps he is._

_‘I love you and you love me, but it is impossible, because you are going to marry someone else.  Not me.  It's funny really; who could love me?  Why_ should you _choose me?  What have I ever given you?_

 _‘I feel like I'm sinking, Blaine…  Why do I_ never _win?  I have had to_ fight _for_ everything _I’ve ever had.  When is it my turn?  Rachel…Rachel's got h-her dream - she's on_ Broadway _!  She’s made it.  She’s on Broadway right now - that’s her_ face _on the_ giant billboard _above your head!  And Santana...well she's Santana...  And I’m…I’m just the “quirky” best-friend who always drops everything for everyone else.  When’s my break?  When does something go my way?_

 _‘You!  You have June...  You have D-Douglas.  What could I_ possibly _offer you that can compare?  Answer me that one because I have no idea what I’m doing, Blaine._

 _‘It_ hurts _. It hurts so much._

_‘I should have known better.  Why am I even here?  It’s never going to happen for me -’_

            _‘-Stop, Kurt.  Please, stop-’_

 _‘-You have no idea.  No idea at all how hard I have to work to get_ anything _!  Everything just_ happens _for you!-’_

_‘-You know that’s not true-’_

_‘-How can you tell me you love me while wearing someone else’s ring?  Who_ does _that?-’_

 _‘-It was a_ gift _-’_

 _‘-An_ Engagement Ring _, Blaine!  Another man’s engagement ring!’_

_‘If you can’t call it what it is you really_

_‘You want me to take it off?  Fine!_

_‘should wonder whether you’re ready._

_‘There!  Are you happy?_

_‘It is on your finger mocking me!_

_'Do you have_ any _idea_

 _‘It keeps_ staring _at me and it’s_ laughing _at me._

 _‘how_ insane _you sound right now?_

 _‘Maybe I am_ insane _, Blaine!_

_‘I’d have to be, right?  That’s the_

_‘You’re twisting my words again!_

_‘only logical explanation_

_‘You’re not even listening to me!_

_‘that could cover it_

_‘Did you ever think_

_‘because all I want to do right now is_

_‘_ _that maybe the reason this is all so_

_‘fuck you_

_‘ fucked_

_‘and I really don’t know how to stop!’_

_‘is ’cause we never learnt when to stop?_

_‘You - wait…what?’_

_Blaine’s eyes are wide._

_‘Kiss you; I want to kiss you.’  Kurt’s pulse is in his tongue._

_‘That’s not what you said.’_

_They had been shouting in the street outside a theatre - making a spectacle, and all of a sudden Kurt is horrifyingly aware that they have an audience._

_‘People are staring.’_

_‘Let them. You said you want to fuck me.’_

_‘People are_ staring _, Blaine.’  Blaine’s eyes are viper pits; marble-cold, dark and unyielding.  A shiver shoots up Kurt’s spine; his hair feels as if it is standing on end._

_He takes a breath._

_Then another._

_Blaine growls deep in his chest – Kurt feels it in his bones – and somehow it gives him strength.  He pushes the other man hard backwards into the wall of the theatre behind him.  Kurt’s hands bracket Blaine’s head, his face is inches away from the other man’s and he barely recognises his own voice._

__'_ Yes, Blaine.  I want to _fuck _you.  I want to fuck you until you scream_ my _name.  I want to fuck him out of you.  Is that what you want to hear?’_

_‘Break it up!  Go on!  Take it somewhere else!’  Someone pulls Kurt off Blaine, pushing him hard and causing him to stumble backwards into something (someone) soft._

_‘How dare you touch him?’_

_Kurt glances up to see Blaine squaring off to a man at least twice his size and the image is instantly, terrifyingly sobering.  Frantically apologising to the innocent woman he had collided with he attempts to grab Blaine’s arm before the interloper’s friends decide to get involved.  He can already hear shouts calling for police.  Kurt gropes for Blaine’s hand, latches and runs._

-+-

_They stop running when they realise there is no one actually chasing them.  Kurt’s fringe flops into his eyes with sweat and he half collapses against the nearest wall pulling Blaine with him.  They rest, breath synching, slowing together until the laughter starts; manic and uncontrolled.  It rolls between them for what seems like hours.  Each time it peters out the other triggers another fit until both finally stop and settle into stunned silence._

_Eventually, Blaine gently tugs Kurt’s hand and Kurt follows automatically._

_‘Where are we going?’_

_‘Just follow me, okay?  I think we need to get some…tension out of our systems and I know just the place.’_

_The Industry Bar is packed but somehow Blaine manages to get them in.  Kurt sticks close behind as Blaine makes his way through towards a cordoned-off area – a nod from a shirtless man who appears to be staff, and Kurt finds himself settled into a private nook with Blaine tucked into his side._

_Kurt expects Blaine to try to get him drunk - he is almost disappointed when Blaine orders a soft drink for himself and quietly follows suit._

_Seated in silence Kurt watches Blaine as the other man chats jovially with the waiter – they obviously know each other and the fact irks Kurt more than he would like to admit.  He must have been frowning because when Blaine turns back to him his eyes show only concern._

_‘Are you…are we alright?’_

_‘Honestly?  I have no idea.  What just happened?  Did we really just have a fight in the street?’_

_‘I think we did, yeah…’_

_‘Wow.’_

_‘Uh…yeah.’_

_‘So…um…you come here often?’  Blaine’s face cracks into a dazzling smile as he laughs.  It is frighteningly contagious and Kurt finds his own smile reflecting Blaine’s.  ‘I just meant – the waiter – you know each other?’_

_‘Yeah.  He’s a friend of Charl… of mine.’  The waiter returns with their drinks and a tombstone grin for Blaine.  ‘Felix, this is Kurt.’_

_‘Charmed, I’m sure.’_

_Kurt finds his free hand clasped strongly in a strong, dark paw before he is once again released and the other man leaves them again._

_The coloured block lights behind the bar pulsate, and Kurt slowly realises that his other hand is still firmly clasped with Blaine’s.  He idly traces his thumb over Blaine’s and feels Blaine’s hand tighten slightly in response._

_From the booth Kurt can see the writhing bodies on the dancefloor and he can see the attraction of letting the beat carry you away.  Thumb still tracing Blaine’s, Kurt turns slightly to look at the man beside him.  Blaine’s head is bowed again as if deep in thought._

_Kurt’s free hand comes up of its own accord, and tilts Blaine’s head up forcing him to look back.  He can feel Blaine’s soft breath against him; his soft lips are so close to skin that he can feel them when the other man finally speaks._

_‘For what it is worth – you were right, Kurt’_

_‘I usually am.  What about in particular?’_

_‘I can’t marry Douglas.  It wouldn’t be fair…it wouldn’t be fair on either of you…or me.  I’m going to talk to him.  Tonight.  It’s been…it’s been on my mind for a while but everything just happened so quickly and then…  I think…I think I’m going to ask him to call it off and see where that leaves us.  I don’t think it will come as a surprise.’_

_‘Oh.’_

_‘You…You are wrong about something.  You are worth_ everything _, Kurt.  There’s not a man out there who would be stupid enough to let you go after finding you.  Please believe that.’_

_‘Why do I feel like there’s a “but” here…?’_

_‘But – I don’t want to rush into anything.  I don’t think I can, Kurt.  My relationship with Douglas…I_ do _love him.’_

 _‘You’re not_ in love _with him.’_

_‘No.  I’m not.’_

_‘You love me.’_

_‘Yes.  But I need time.  I want to be sure I’m making the right choices for me.  I don’t want to hurt you again, Kurt.  I couldn’t live with myself.’_

_‘I…I understand.’_

_‘I don’t expect you to wait for me - I have no idea how long I need.  Months?  Years?  I may never be ready…  I don’t know where to start but I need to try to make this all right again.  He does need me, Kurt.  He’s not strong like you are.’_

_‘I’m not as strong as you think I am.’_

_‘You are all I think about.’_

_‘You’re all I think about too.’  Kurt swallows heavily against the dry lump forming in his throat.      ‘So what now?  I just get on with my life?  I try to move on again with the knowledge that one day you_ might _be ready to try_ us _again?  What am I supposed to do with that?  I…we have a duet together in three weeks…’_

_‘We act like the professionals we portend to be and we go on with the show.’_

_‘How can you even say that to me?’_

_‘There is nothing I would like more in this world, Kurt, than for us to be able to say we’ll try being friends again.  But it doesn’t work.  It_ never _works.’_

 _‘It_ has _to.  It has to because there is no way I am letting you go through this on your own - do you hear me, Blaine Anderson?  You are not alone.’_

_‘I love you, Kurt.’_

_‘I love you too.  I’m staying right here, in whatever capacity you feel comfortable with for as long as you need.  Okay?  I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m here.’_

-+-


	3. From Such Great Heights

### From Such Great Heights

 

            The funeral is an utterly over-the-top affair and would have not been out of place as a state funeral – the rooms and grounds of the Summer Palace teem with mourners in formalwear, as waiting staff circulate beverages and canapes, dodging urns overflowing with cloying lilies and strangling ivy.  It looks like a strange ballet of penguins – like something out of _Fantasia_ : he keeps expecting to see dancing elephants and ostriches.  The heady perfume of the flowers suffocates him a little more with each breath, and does nothing to help the atmosphere that sparks with the threat of a storm between the senior members of the household.

Blaine holds Douglas’ hand throughout the service in church, throughout the burial, throughout the wake.  He can be this for the architect – he can be a small comfort.

 

            They do not stay long – mainly to avoid Julia, but also because Douglas has no intention of saying more than the barest formalities to his brother.  Blaine spots Doug and Rachel sat quietly in the Garden Room, but is ushered out into the waiting taxi before he gets a chance to give more than a small wave of acknowledgement.  He frowns as the vehicle crunches its way down the path towards the main road.

            ‘I thought we were going to stay a little longer.  They’ve not yet read the will.’  Douglas’ dark eyes flick over to catch his own, and Blaine raises an eyebrow.  ‘What?’

The other man squeezes Blaine’s hand lightly and then turns as much as the seatbelt will allow to face his companion.  Douglas looks drained but there is a sparkle in the depths of his dark eyes that concerns Blaine.

            ‘What would you say to a holiday?’

            ‘A holiday?’  Blaine cannot keep the incredulity out of his voice.  They have _never_ been on holiday and the idea had never even come up.  The topic is so out of the left field Blaine barely has time to react before Douglas is speaking again.

            ‘Italy.  Lake Maggiorie – a little place called Angera specifically.  I’ve booked us a suite at a quaint little place I know – belongs to that actress’ father actually…  The one June wants you to perform with next month – and I think it is exactly what we both need right now.’

            ‘A holiday?’  Blaine feels like a parrot.

            ‘We’ll fly into Milan, so I thought we could stay at the Grand Hotel et de Milan on the way back – see some of the city?’

            ‘W-what about London?  The showcase?  Kur-the NYADA performance?’

            ‘London can wait.  We’ll be back in time for the performance, Blaine.  I’ve cleared it with June – she thought it would do you some good.’  He smiles and playfully puts on June’s accent:  ‘ _Get some color in that boy’s cheeks – he looks pasty, Douglas._   _I need him to_ shine.’

            ‘When?’  He asks but he already knows – the taxi is heading the wrong way for them to be going home.  In fact: it is headed to JFK.  Blaine feels his pulse hammer in his chest.  He feels sick – he had not been able to stomach any food at the wake and he is suddenly ridiculously glad that he had passed on the gourmet delicacies on offer.  ‘We haven’t packed…I haven’t got my passport or-’

            ‘We are going to Milan – there are _shops_ there, Blaine.’  Douglas is grinning with excitement and Blaine forces himself to mask his horror.  ‘Penny sent our passports over this morning.’ 

            ‘You’ve thought of everything…’

            ‘You’re not excited.’  It is a statement and Blaine can see he has seconds to catch Douglas before he falls…

            ‘No – No!  It’s just…a surprise.’  Blaine swallows hard.

Douglas smiles and pats Blaine’s leg. 

            ‘It’s just what we both need.  A change of pace.  Some culture.  Fresh air.’

            ‘Fresh air.’  Blaine parrots.  ‘Definitely need some of that.’

            ‘How’s your Italian?’

 

-+-

 

            ‘I’m sorry, he’s where?’  Kurt’s eyebrows are firmly in his hairline and Rachel has to turn back to the boiling kettle to prevent herself from giggling inappropriately at the tall man’s comical expression.

            ‘Italy, apparently.’  Doug’s smooth voice answers for her from the breakfast table.

            ‘When?  Why didn’t he tell me?  How long for?  We’re supposed to be-’

            ‘Performing, yes, I know.’  Rachel interrupts before Kurt’s hysterical tirade continues.

            ‘To be fair, Kurt, I don’t think Blaine knew about it.  Uncle Douglas had his PA overnight their passports to Grandmother’s.  She was utterly furious when they took off before the speeches and the reading of the will.’  Doug spears a pancake with his fork and manoeuvers it from stack to his plate with a look of endearing concentration.

            ‘So he’s kidnapped him?’

            ‘I wouldn’t put it like that….they _are_ engaged, Kurt.  They can go on holiday together.’  Rachel knows it is a low blow but Kurt had been oddly quiet since missing the second half of her debut performance on Broadway.  He had not even explained _why_ , and to top it all: had made a pact with Santana which seemingly protected him from having to explain himself.  She felt entitled to poke him with a metaphorical stick - hard.

Kurt does not respond verbally, instead pulls out his cell, jabs it a couple of times with his finger and then puts the device to his ear.

            ‘He’ll be in the air, Kurt.’  Doug’s voice is calm despite the impressive quantity of pancake in his mouth.  Rachel grimaces at him, and receives a laugh in return. 

            ‘I’m sure he’ll bring you something nice back.  It’s _Milan_ , Kurt.’ 

The glare levelled at her from her chestnut-headed friend is a beacon that she has pushed too far.  Kurt spins on his heel and storms out of the loft.  Doug makes to go after him but she puts a firm hand on his shoulder before turning back to finish making the coffee.

 

-+-

 

            Angera is paradise.  They wine and dine in tiny bistros where no one speaks more than a smattering of English, and the weather is glorious.  They visit the stunning Isola Bella, and tour the lakes by yacht – enamoured by the multitude of famous hotels and their sparkling guest lists.  Eating well, drinking well, and resting; Blaine eventually relaxes into the break, and Douglas seems to get younger by the day.            

            ‘We should have done this sooner.’  Douglas murmurs into Blaine’s golden skin.  ‘You are so beautiful – my Adonis.  Italy suits you.’ 

The other man gently tucks an errant curl behind Blaine’s ear.  Blaine dips his chin and shifts a little.  He feels Douglas’ arousal against him – hard and hot like a brand.  Douglas’ lips trace the line of his neck from ear, jaw, to shoulder.

He is saved by the sudden harsh and insistent buzzing of Douglas’ cell.  Blaine is up and across the room before Douglas can react.

            ‘It could be Penny or Darrel,’ he reasons, but frowns slightly at the caller ID.  ‘Oh.’

Douglas plucks the phone gently from Blaine’s hand and declines the call before switching off the offending device and lightly tossing it back onto the side table.

            ‘He’s calling you a lot…he doesn’t know where we are does he?’ 

‘No,’ the architect shakes his head slightly. 

‘He’s still in love with you.’  It is a statement, and Douglas simply levels a look Blaine cannot translate at him before uttering a deep sigh and settling back down onto the bed.

            ‘I know.’

            ‘Do you love him?’

            ‘Darling, no – I love you.’  Douglas reaches a hand out to the younger man in an offering Blaine cannot contemplate in that moment.  He remains standing; Douglas’ hand falters and drops back onto the bedcover.

            ‘I know that.  It doesn’t mean you don’t love him though.  You were together a long time.  I wouldn’t blame you…I know I don’t compare-’

Douglas surges up.  The kiss steals his breath and is too desperate - too possessive.  Blaine struggles against him.

            ‘Stop, Douglas, please.’

            ‘What’s the matter, Blaine?  I thought you’d be happy here?  I thought we would be happy here.  What’s going on?’

            ‘I don’t think I can do this…’

            ‘Do what, darling?’

            ‘Any of this.  My head is… I just keep getting the feeling that you’re hiding something from me, and I…I need some air.  I’m going for a walk, okay?  I’ll be back, I promise, I just…I need some space, to think.’

 Douglas nods, before holding out his hand to indicate Blaine wait, rummaging in the minibar and returning with a cold bottle of water.  Blaine accepts it with a tight nod and pecks Douglas chastely on the lips.  The other man’s eyes hold no answers for him – dark and fathomless as the very depths of the sea.  Blaine sighs and starts walking.

 

-+-

 

            Kurt is jittery.  He has no idea what he is expecting to see at the dress rehearsal for the NYADA showcase – he knows that Blaine is back – June had told him so when he had turned up at the penultimate rehearsal the day before, to find a room crowded with other performers in various states of dress but distinctly lacking in curly-haired ex-Warblers. 

He runs a hand idly over the lid of the piano and barely supresses a shiver of anticipation.  It is not like he had spent the last week obsessing over what could have happened in Italy.  No.  That would not be like him at all…

In is favoured fantasy of the moment Blaine waltzes into the rehearsal space and whisks Kurt into his arms, declares how stupid he had been, and kisses him - thoroughly.  They then proceed to have intimate relations on top of the piano… Kurt is startled out of that particular reverie by Jacques breezing up to him – all fluster and whirling limbs.

            ‘Have you seen Mr. Anderson?  Costume want me to wear green and everybody knows that green is not my colour, Kurt.  I can’t wear green.  It washes me out!’

            ‘No, sorry.  Um…look, if I see him I’ll let him know you’re looking for him, alright?’  Kurt slides onto the piano stool and crosses his legs in what he hopes is a subtle way of hiding the result of his daydream.

            ‘I can’t believe some people!  I mean – it’s only the dedication ceremony for the new performance space!  It’s alright for some people.  I’ve heard his husband is loaded, and I mean _loaded_.’

            ‘Oh, they’re not married.’  Kurt feels his guts slither and writhe, but grasps hold tightly of the knowledge that Doug would have told him if that had been the case, surely?

            ‘Then why did they honeymoon in Italy?  People don’t just disappear off to foreign countries for no reason just before a show, Kurt, no matter how rich they are.’

Kurt swallows hard and tries not to resemble a guppy as Jacques changes tack and starts asking questions about their final for Mime class.  His ears ring and Kurt finds that he is glad that he is already seated as he is not sure that his legs currently work.

 

-+-

 

            The rehearsal space is crowded when he finally arrives, jetlagged and frazzled, after a hellish journey across the city.  He is immediately collared by first, a member of NYADA faculty who quizzes him on final details for the performance order, and then a gaggle of student performers with questions regarding changes to blocking or costume.  He answers each with as much patience as he can muster whilst actively trying to avoid June and scanning the room for –

\- Kurt!  He sees him over by the piano and cannot hold in the smile that positively springs forth from him.  Blaine does not think he could have controlled his feet had he wanted to as they draw him through the pulsing throng and towards the other man. 

            ‘Hi you.’

 

-+-

 

            Kurt is on his feet and practically dragging Blaine out of the room and backstage before he even registered that he should probably have said something to Jacques.  Blaine’s smile twists slightly into something resembling bemusement but he goes along with Kurt all the same.  The fire escape door screeches shut firmly behind them and Kurt realises that he really should have propped it open as now they will have to go all the way back around to the front of the building to get back in.  The sudden noise reduction is almost deafening.

            ‘We really must stop meeting like this.’  Blaine jokes.

Kurt wants to slap him.  The expression on his face must make is feelings obvious because Blaine’s smile falters.

            ‘I missed you, Kurt.’ 

            ‘Italy?’

            ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

            ‘What?  It was an _enforced_ holiday?’  He hopes he does not sound as hysterical as he feels.

            ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Kurt.’ 

Blaine sinks down onto one of the cool metal steps, his face falling into shade, and Kurt quietly curses under his breath, clacking his stud against his teeth in frustration.  He catches Blaine’s slight shift in posture and huffs out a breath, biting his tongue hard.  With a sigh he slides down beside the shorter man.

            ‘You look good.  Sun always makes you look…healthier.’

            ‘Thanks.’  Blaine slides a little closer to Kurt until their shoulders bump.  ‘We don’t have long – June will be looking for me and we really need to rehearse.’

            ‘Yeah…’

The silence stretches out between them and if it were not for the physical heat of Blaine beside him, Kurt would have sworn that he had been alone.  He finally glances down at Blaine’s folded hands.  No change - one ring on the third finger of his left hand.  That is something at least – he can deal with consistency.

            ‘Jacques is telling everyone that you were on an impromptu honeymoon.’

Blaine snorts a laugh and turns, moving Kurt so that they are facing each other.

            ‘I called it off.’  The words feel like a physical slap though Blaine’s voice remains quiet and calm.

            ‘I’m so-’  He stutters.

            ‘You’re not sorry, Kurt.  Don’t say it.’

            ‘You’re still wearing his ring.’  It is the obvious thing to say, but it does not make it easy to get the words out; they feel like pebbles in his dry mouth.

            ‘We decided to take a bit of a break to think things through.  Everything has just happened so quickly, you know, and I don’t think either of us…’  Blaine lets his words trail away and Kurt is frozen, unsure whether he should say something, anything, or whether he should reach out and touch the man beside him.  He settles for neither and the seconds stretch out between them like taffy. 

The screech of the fire escape door opening makes them both jump like guilty lovers, but it is only a ridiculously tall ballerina with an attitude.

            ‘Ms Dolloway wants to know if we are we rehearsing now or what?’

Blaine purses his lips together tightly and nods, standing to hold the door with one hand and help Kurt to his feet with the other.  Kurt takes the offered hand and they silently promise to pick the conversation up after the rehearsal.

 

-+-

 

            Things seem to conspire against them: Blaine is whisked off to dinner by June amid overdramatic protestations that, though he had had her permission (she is very vocal about that part), he had “better not do anything of the sort again”, and requests for him to tell her _everything_ about the latest season in Milan.  Kurt is left feeling transient – both a little hollow, and slightly excited – a feeling which remains with him like a personal storm cloud until he next catches sight of Blaine backstage on the evening of the performance. 

As Blaine is the compere they do not get a chance to speak before the interval, nor do they have a proper chance then, as they are both expected to mingle with June’s guests and the wider audience as representatives of NYADA’s best (Kurt) and Ms Dolloway herself (Blaine).  Their first duet together of the evening ( _Story of my Life_ ) had been a hit, and Kurt feels June’s shrew-eyes judging him as he endeavours to get close enough to Blaine to, if not talk, communicate more than the briefest of glances allows.  They eventually manage to grab a brief moment before the second half of the show begins during June’s dedication speech.

            ‘Come to the loft, after the show.  Spend whatever time mingling with June at the after party that you need, but come.  The girls will be out all night.’

Blaine nods his understanding as he passes by purposefully brushing Kurt’s fingertips with his own as he makes his way onto the stage and to June’s side for their next number.

 

-+-

 

            For once the loft feels too warm.  Kurt strips another layer off in front of his full-length mirror and quickly fixes his hair.  He runs a hand over his shirt to smooth it back down, ears constantly straining for the sound of footfall over the familiar background soundscape of the loft itself and the city beyond.

He had attended the after party for long enough to show his face, receive the praise coming to him, and then made his excuses.  Part of him had wanted to remain by Blaine’s side, but he had grown tired of June’s continual interference – physically separating them by dragging Blaine off to meet someone new every time Kurt had managed to get close enough to try to talk to him.  He doubts that the other man will be free much before the last bell, but he has absolutely no doubt that he will show.  Eventually.

 

-+-

 

            _It had been full dark by the time Blaine had fumbled his way back into bed.  Douglas had apparently been waiting up for him and had immediately rolled to face the younger man as soon as he had felt his weight dip the mattress._

_Blaine took a breath, then another._

_He had taken the ferry back over the Isola Bella, and had spent the afternoon wandering the gardens one among the multitude of colourful tourists.  He had walked until his feet ached, hand clutching the warming bottle of water Douglas had given him, condensation dripping from his hand to the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs._

_‘Where do you see yourself in the next five years?’  Blaine’s voice is calm and soft.  It is evidently not what Douglas had been expecting him to say – the moonlight from the open window paints the other man’s face into deep relief as he frowns slightly, lips parting and closing in thought._

_‘Well…  You’ll have graduated from one of the performing arts universities in London while I worked on the Fosker project.  We will probably be just back in New York… or maybe about to move back.  June will be rearing at the bit to put you in the spotlight where you belong.  I’ll be gradually handing over the big project work to Darrel, so that I can be there for you as your star rises –’_

_‘Ten years.’  He interrupts._

_‘You will be a big star.  Probably of stage, but I also imagine film with your looks.  We will be married, of course, and I’ll be retired -’_

_‘Fifteen.’_

_‘What do you want me to say, darling?  What is this really about?’_

_‘Fifteen.’_

_‘Blaine –’_

_‘Come on, Douglas.  You’ve thought about this, I know you have.  You’ve forgotten the kids – they’re important to the inheritance, so: Fifteen.’_

_‘We’re married; I’m at home with the kids.  I take them to see you on set and I’m so proud of you for following your heart and doing what you love –’_

_‘How did we end up with kids?’_

_‘A surrogate.’_

_‘How many?’_

_‘One is biologically mine.  One is yours – he has your eyes.  I like to pretend they are both yours -’_

_‘Twenty.’_

_‘Blaine –’_

_‘_ Twenty _.’_

_‘I’m not playing this game with you tonight, Blaine.’_

_‘It’s not a game to me.’_

_‘Poor choice of words but you know what I mean.  It’s three in the morning, Blaine.  You’ve been out all day.  I was worried.’  Douglas reaches out to make contact with Blaine – to ground them together again.  He half expects the other man to shrink away from the touch, but Blaine remains stone, his features blank in the shadows._

_‘I said I would be back.’_

_‘I know.’_

_‘I’m back –’_

_‘Where did you go?’  Douglas’ fingers trace soothing circles on the skin of Blaine’s upper arms.  The sun warmed muscles are bunched rock beneath his fingertips, rapidly cooling with the breeze from the window._

_‘Twenty.’_

            ‘ _I don’t know, darling.  What do you see?’_

_‘I’ve been trying to work that out…  Generally when I plan for something it doesn’t happen the way I wanted.’_

_‘Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.  John Lennon.’_

_‘Hmn.’_

_Douglas’ fingers dig a little more firmly into the taught muscles beneath them, massaging now, rather than the tentative soothing of a flighty animal.  They breathe the same air, watching each other in the thick encompassing darkness._

_‘What do you see, Blaine?’_

_There is something about the dark which allows a certain amount of honesty – it is probably why confessional booths are so poorly lit, Blaine muses.  He flexes his aching feet one at a time, reaching a steady hand up to gently trace the outline of the face before him.  Fingertips flutter over eyelids, rasp over stubble, drag over lips.  Lips part and Blaine presses his finger against them._

_‘I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you again like this.  But I’m scared...  I’m scared that when we go back it will just be the same again.  It’s not going to change – whether we are in New York or London.  You need to work and I need to feel needed.  Does that make me a bad person?  I think it might…’  His voice trails off, but his finger remains firmly pressed to Douglas’ lips demanding silence.  Douglas compensates with his hands – running them soothingly over Blaine’s upper body, smoothing the tension away as much as he is able to from the awkward angle they are lay at.  Eventually Blaine’s voice returns.  ‘I went to Isola Bella.  You know, I think I would love to live there.  It’s like the hanging gardens of Babylon – a Hellenic civilisation.  It’s heavenly…  It looks like a fortress across the lake as you approach it…but the closer in you get the more you start to see the gardens, and glimpse the village as it nestles in the rock…  I didn’t want to leave…  I kissed Kurt.’  The admission seems to come from nowhere, but Douglas does not move away in disgust, his hand continues its soothing ministrations so Blaine stumbles on.  ‘He kissed me first.  The first time that is.  I didn’t mean for it to happen but he has this hold over me.  He was the first person I ever loved.  We used to play this game where we would tell each other where we saw ourselves in five years, ten, twenty, and it was_ real _.  But then it wasn’t enough anymore.  He grew up, and he didn’t need me anymore and I was so lost.’  He is only aware that he is crying when he feels Douglas’ fingers gently brushing away tears.  Blaine takes a breath.  He forces himself to keep talking; it is easier in the darkness, unable to see the impact of his words on the man before him, and he knows that if he does not get it out now – he never will.  ‘I love you.  Never doubt that.  But…I love him too.  I don’t mean to.  I didn’t mean…’  A breath.  ‘I think I could be happy with you.  I…I c-could make you happy.  But I need you to understand – I can’t stop loving, Kurt.  I know it can’t be both ways.  I know that.  And June has made it very clear that she won’t sponsor me if I’m not in a relationship she deems_ appropriate _…that’s important too isn’t it?  Does that make me a terrible person?  I know June is my shortcut and I d-don’t want to have to give that up.’  He rubs a hand over his face in frustration.  ‘This is all coming out wrong!’  He rolls away from the silent architect, and sits on the edge of the bed – eyes unseeing yet scanning the depths of the darkness around him unsure whether it is friend or foe here.  He flinches when he feels the other man’s weight shift then leave the bed, but he does not turn to follow the noise.  He expects the light to come on.  He expects Douglas to pack.  To leave.  Or to kick him out.  He expects…  He does not expect the bed to dip beside him – their hips bumping together as the mattress rolls slightly.  ‘I’m sorry.’_

_‘I’m sorry too.’  His voice is tight and Blaine knows that he caused those silent tears.  ‘Adrian kissed me.’_

_Blaine’s next breath catches in his throat and his heart plummets to his toes.  He had not expected it to feel like being punched.  He had not expected it to_ hurt _so viscerally._

_‘Oh.’  Blaine feels like he has to say something.  ‘Well that does explain a little I guess.’  A hand gropes for his but Blaine does not know whether he will shatter or explode if he is touched.  He allows Douglas to take his hand anyway; feels the other man bring it to his lips and kiss it softly where his ring encircles his finger like a promise._

_‘I understand…about Kurt, I mean.’_

_‘Do you still love Adrian?’_

_‘I think you can’t be with someone the way we were and ever really stop loving them…but it’s a different kind of love…’_

_He knows that the architect cannot see him, but he nods anyway._

_‘What happens now?’_

_‘Do you love me, Blaine?’_

_‘I… yes.  I do.  I love you.  But I love Kurt…  I try not to, but I can’t help it.’_

_‘I understand.  I love you too, Blaine.’_

_‘And you love Adrian.’_

_‘Yes.  God help me, yes I do.  But he’s not my future, Blaine.  He’s my past.  I swear to you –’_

_‘I can’t swear the same back.  I-I can’t…’_

_‘You need to choose, darling.  You know that…’  A bone-weary sigh reverberates beside him.  Blaine’s mouth is full of cotton wool.  ‘This is the plan then: we enjoy the rest of our holiday, and we go onto Milan as planned.  We see the sights and get in some retail therapy, then head home as planned so you can dazzle everyone at June’s event as planned.  I have to have a meeting with the shareholders now the old man is gone, so I’ll get that out of the way.  I’ll talk to Mother, and I’ll play nice with Roger.  You’ll talk to June about your future and see what she proposes, then you and I will sit down – no distractions – and lay it all out.  How does that sound?’_

_‘What about Kurt and Adrian?’_

_‘I am not in love with Adrian.  I know you can’t say the same for Kurt, Blaine.  I’m not asking you to.  There’s no pressure here.  If you’re with me I need it to be because you chose me; not out of pity or some misguided notion of chivalry.’_

_‘I love you.’_

_‘I love you too.  Now…we really need to get some sleep…’  Blaine feels Douglas’ last sentence hanging in the air as the bed springs up freed of the other man’s weight – it is an invitation and an out in one move.  If Blaine says the word Douglas will sleep on the couch, he knows that beyond any doubt.  The knowledge makes his heart ache._

_‘Come to bed then.’  The words are barely more than a whisper but he gets them out.  He has to._

-+-

 

            Blaine’s palms are sweating as he makes his way up the stairs to Kurt’s loft.  Every step rings out his presence, and does nothing to quell his writhing gut.  He runs a hand through his hair and attempts to soothe errant curls back into place – for once mourning the gel he had used to use to slick everything down before he had discovered the wonders of pomade.  If he pauses at the doorway he is not sure he will make it through.  He knows that Kurt is the other side.  He knows that this discussion could be the last they have together…  Absently he pats the pocket of his coat and feels the reassuring presence of the box where it rests against his hip.

The door slides open and he feels the last of his adrenalin kick in.

Kurt is posed like an awkward fashion model against the breakfast table.  Blaine blinks in an effort not to burst out laughing with the tension and stress of it all – post-performance come-down notwithstanding.  Kurt’s smile blossoms and Blaine is suddenly calm.

He walks over to the other man and drops to his knees before him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been a long time coming. The work is complete - I will be trying to post the last chapters regularly from now on. A lot has happened which I won't go into, but the big one is that the husband and I now have a little boy who is my world. Apologies for the horrendously long hiatus but I am back. And so is this story.  
> As always - this is for all of you.


	4. Compass

### Compass

            _Sweat runs in salty rivulets down his back; his hair is plastered to his scalp, and his eyes sting like they have been wiped with nettles - but he carries on.  The music pounds his aching muscles like an incessant lover, but still he keeps moving – he has to; it is the only way he can keep breathing.  There are only a few bars left now - just one last chorus then he will take his bow, and invite June up onto the stage to join him.  There will probably be at least one more encore…he quickly runs through appropriate numbers, gauging the audience’s mood.  He catches June’s eye from the side of the stage – she is smiling at him so he can probably flatter her into joining him for a duet.  He winks at her and launches into the final two lines of the chorus._

_The roar of voices and thundering claps drown out all his self-doubt – this is what he had been missing.  Kurt had been right, of course he had – Blaine needs to perform; he needs to please people like he needs oxygen to live._

_It is deafening and he has not felt so alive in such a long time that he knows in that instant he is addicted.  It is only when performing that he can be entirely present, entirely in the moment.  Gone are the doubts, gone the insecurities – those nagging voices of shame and loathing banished to obscurity – thoroughly drowned and washed away._

_June’s hand is refreshingly cool in his and she raises his arm up like he is a champion fighter – as if he has achieved_ something _and is_ worthy _of this adoration._

_June tells each of her guests that she is giving Blaine a showcase of his own, parading him by the elbow from table to table.  He does his best to be charming and to win over each of the guests as they are introduced – he cannot allow himself to fall at this last hurdle.  Her hand on his elbow is firm and possessive and leaves him in no doubt that, should he agree to her terms (of which he is beginning to get some idea) she will own him – he will be her asset._

_He thinks he could be alright with that if the result is this._

_Except…_

_There is something about the way that June keeps him apart from Kurt that rankles him._

_Sharing the stage with Kurt again had made him feel…right…  As if he was somehow made whole again as their voices soared together under the lights, so blindingly bright that the audience disappeared, and their world was reduced to nothing but each other and the music thrumming through them, linking them together as_ one. 

_One body, one voice, one soul, one heart._

_Strange how both the lack of light and its brilliant excess can provide the same illusion of sacred privacy._

_He spots Kurt across the room and their eyes meet; Blaine’s breath catches in his throat – the taller man is a vision in red and black tonight and, though he would like nothing better than to run his hands over the taught fabric…  Blaine uses the distance between them to truly_ look _at him – a luxury he has not had in such a long time – he had forgone the right to that simple luxury so long ago.  They were different people then…  Kurt is taller now – no longer the boy who had tentatively reached out to Blaine on the spiral staircase at Dalton wearing a sham uniform of black and red, and barely holding it together. This Kurt does not need him.  He knows that.  But he also knows that that is fine.  This Kurt is almost a man grown – all lean strength and self-confidence…  Kurt blushes under Blaine’s unashamed gaze, and_ there he is _…_

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.

_June coughs slightly in warning and Blaine turns to give her his attention but he can still feel Kurt’s presence just on the edge of the room and in the periphery of his hammering heart._

-+-

 

            ‘What are you doing?’

Kurt’s voice is as high and breathless as Blaine feels.  His hand somehow makes it into his coat pocket and his fingers wrap firmly around the box.

            ‘Kurt…I…If I stop to think about this too much I’m probably going to over-think it and then –’

            ‘Get up off the floor, Blaine.’  He interrupts.

            ‘-I want you to have this.’  The box is small and unassuming. 

            ‘What is that?  What are you doing?’

            ‘Just open it.’  Blaine smiles, pressing his lips together to stop himself from breaking down into slightly hysterical giggles at Kurt’s reaction to such an innocuous object.        He is starting to shake slightly as the last of his post-performance adrenaline leaves his bloodstream and he mentally curses himself for not leaving the party when Kurt had _hours_ earlier. 

Kurt’s breathing stutters but he makes no move to take the box from Blaine’s outstretched hand. 

            ‘It’s not going to bite you, Kurt,’ Blaine coaxes softly.  The other man seems frozen in place, held up by nothing but the breakfast table.  He takes pity on him, reaches up, and gently pulls Kurt down by the hand until they are both sat together on the floor.  ‘I’d keep kneeling but I honestly don’t think I have the energy…’  Blaine jokes lightly.  He makes a show of placing the box safely to one side as if it were a tarantula and not a simple, black box.  Kurt does not relax but stays coiled like a spring at Blaine’s side, his eyes fixed on the small object where Blaine left it.  ‘Okay,’ Blaine sighs as he flops backwards onto the floor, folding his hands behind his head as he does so.

Kurt watches him silently.

Outside the city is waking up: a woman shouts abuse at someone as a horn blazes below.  Somewhere an alarm is going off.  These are the staccato interruptions of _life_ and Blaine loves it.  He is bone-wearily exhausted and could probably do with getting something to eat, but he has never been so certain he is in exactly the right place in his entire life.  He has time.

He glances sideways at the man beside him and smiles reassuringly.  Kurt eyes him as you would a cat that looks particularly fluffy but could equally be feral and claw your face off.  The idea almost pushes Blaine over the edge of _holding-it-together_ and firmly into _giggling_ again.  He coughs slightly to mask it and reaches back into his coat pocket; fingers groping for the tissue paper wrapped parcel nestled within.

He withdraws the neatly folded and wrapped article and gently deposits it in Kurt’s lap.

            ‘At least open that one?’

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

            ‘Don’t make me beg, Kurt.’  Blue eyes never leave his own as deft fingers make short work of the delicate tissue paper.  ‘Sorry: I had to re-wrap it so it would fit in my pocket –’

Kurt’s screech finally breaks Blaine’s resolve.

            ‘It’s just a scarf, Kurt.’  He keeps his voice wry.

            ‘It’s not just a scarf.  You know very well it is not “just a scarf”.  What am I supposed to do with this?’

            ‘Wear it?’

            ‘You know what I mean.  This is a $495 scarf, Blaine.’

            ‘I am aware.’

            ‘I can’t accept it.’

            ‘Of course you can - It’s a gift – anyway, it’s not from me: read the label.’

Kurt is holding the ornately decorated black and gold scarf as if it were the most precious item in his possession – the medusa head seems to grin at Blaine as the other man gently unfolds it until he finds the handwritten accompanying note.

            ‘It’s from Douglas?  Why-why are you giving me a $495 Versace scarf from your fian-… from Douglas, Blaine?’

            ‘It was his idea.  He wanted to get you a gift, and I _know_ you’ve always wanted it so…’  Blaine shrugs slightly, ‘…we were in Milan.’

They fall into silence together, and Blaine drops his head back down onto the floor, watching Kurt covet the silk scarf from the corner of his eye.

            ‘I don’t know what to say.’

            ‘How about, “thank you” – but to Douglas, obviously.  Now, how about you open my gift?  You liked that one and mine’s better…at least _I_ think so.’

Kurt eyes the offending article with suspicion but nods once, which Blaine takes for an okay.  He reaches over and gently places the box into Kurt’s hand.  Kurt’s hand shakes slightly as he opens the lid, but Blaine’s eyes are trained on the other man’s face reading every micro-reaction memorising every detail of this moment.

Neither speak.

A cat screeches.

Traffic rumbles.

The room grows brighter with every inhale and exhale.

Kurt’s eyes remain focused on the contents nestled within the small box.

Eventually, Blaine shifts, standing to boil the kettle – to do _something_ , and it seems to break the trance.

            ‘It’s a ring.’

            ‘Yes.’  He pauses.

            ‘You’re giving me a ring.’

            ‘It does look like that, yes.’

            ‘Why are you giving me a ring, Blaine.’

            ‘It’s not a proposal, exactly…’

            ‘What does that even mean?  Have you gone completely mad?  Three weeks ago you were telling me that you needed time – that it could be years - and it felt like you were l-leaving me all over again, Blaine.  You offered me friendship and I promised myself I would g-grasp it with b-both hands b-because you in my life is so much b-better than my life without you…and I thought I could live with that…I was going to t-try, but now you’re giving me a ring, and you said you’re on a b-break, but you were _engaged_ , and now I d-don’t know what to think because I have a r-ridiculously expensive Celtic Baroque Medusa Scarf from your – what is he?  Your ex-fiancé?  Your fiancé? – and you’re giving me a ring –’

Blaine drops back down beside Kurt and does the only thing he can think of to stop the other man’s panic attack – he kisses him.  Kurt’s lips freeze against his, but Blaine holds the other man tightly as if his life depends on it.  He is not sure when the other man started to melt into the kiss, but he is so very grateful that that is what happens; he does not have the strength left for a fight.

Kurt’s hand on Blaine’s chest gently pushes him back, and Blaine immediately gives Kurt room. 

            ‘You’re creasing my scarf.’

The laughter is explosive.

 

-+-

 

            The sun is full in the sky and his back is starting to protest from his awkward position on the floor, but Blaine knows he would not be anywhere else for all the world.  They had dissolved into a boneless and exhausted heap (after Kurt had placed his scarf and the ring – still in box) onto the kitchen table and safely out of harm’s way).   

            ‘Are you going to explain it?’

            ‘Explain what?’

            ‘The ring, Blaine.’

            ‘It’s not a proposal, exactly –’

            ‘You said that.’

            ‘Let me finish?  It’s…It’s a promise.’  Kurt’s warning look is enough to make him pause.  ‘Okay, not a “promise” because I – yeah….so it’s…it’s a ring that I would like you to have, and wear if you want.’

            ‘Just give me the speech, Blaine.’

            ‘There was one –’

            ‘- You’re you: of course there was –’  There is no edge to the interruption, only a fondness that Blaine takes as encouragement.

            ‘- but I know that you deserve more than words, Kurt.  I know that things are not perfect, and it’s messy, and it’s complicated, but I need you to know that I love you.  I love you and I always have – I think I always will –’

            ‘Why does this sound like you’re saying goodbye to me?’

            ‘I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to… well that’s not completely true because I do have to go home at some point because, well – clothes – but…I guess what I’m trying to say is that – I would like to give us another go.  Not now.  But when we’re ready…’  He pauses and takes Kurt’s left hand in his own, pressing his lips to the back of Kurt’s hand.  ‘I’d like you to wear that ring when you’re ready.  Would that be something you’d maybe be interested in?  I don’t expect you to answer now –’

            ‘I’d like that, very much.’

The kiss is chaste and sweet and over far too quickly.  They are both grinning like jack-o’-lanterns and Blaine is pretty certain that he is now running on fumes, but he cannot bring himself to move from where he is.

            ‘I’d forgotten what this felt like.’  Kurt’s voice is soft and quiet.

            ‘Like what felt like?’

            ‘Happiness.’

Blaine kisses him again, and again until Kurt pulls back and places a hand gently but firmly back on Blaine’s chest.

            ‘How did he take it?’

            ‘I…uh…’  Blaine stumbles over his tongue trying desperately to find the right words, and Kurt looks like he may throw up.

            ‘You haven’t told him have you.’  Kurt moves backwards as if he has been branded, and Blaine lunges forwards to stop the other man from slipping away.

            ‘Kurt – wait – stop.  Of course I told him!  Stop!  Listen!’  The taller man looks pale and drawn.  Blaine gently pulls him back towards him down on the cool sanctuary of the floor.  Kurt gives him a look.  Blaine exhales.  ‘He’s moving to London in a couple of weeks and wants me to go with him still.  Even though we’re not together…he wants me to see the city and the universities there.  It would be a new start and it could work…but you’re not there.  You’re here and I can’t…he wasn’t enough.  I know it sounds awful – believe me: I hate myself for it – but he wasn’t enough of a reason and the more I thought about it the more I realised that I don’t want a fresh start in a new city.  I want a fresh start with you.  I want to get to know you again, Kurt.  You were my best friend first – you were the only one who called me out when I was being too full of myself…you are so brave, Kurt.  I’ve always been in awe of that about you…’

            ‘I don’t-’

            ‘Please, let me…  I…hm.  Cheating on you was the single biggest mistake of my life, but I can’t regret it because things couldn’t have continued as they were.  We were too co-dependent.  We had built each other up and put each other on these gilded pedestals and it wasn’t reality, Kurt.  No one can live up to that.  It’s not an excuse, but…  I want this – I want to get to know this new you and I want you to get to know me again.  I want us to grow up together – to challenge each other – to help each other be the best people we can be…  I…I’m rambling, sorry.  Does any of that make sense?’

            ‘I want that too.’

            ‘Douglas wanted you to have that gift because he knew I didn’t want to buy it for you with his money.  He wanted you to have it because you having it makes me happy… he’s a good person, Kurt.  I…he’s made me a better partner, and there is a part of me that knows I could have made him happy…but that’s not my job because you can’t make people happy – not really.  That has to come from within.  We were both damaged in our own ways he and I, and I think our relationship made us both stronger, but I know he’d end up resenting me because there will always be a part of me that belongs to only you, Kurt.  So, he’s leaving for London without me, and I’m going to stay in New York.’

            ‘You’re staying for me?’

            ‘I’m staying for me, only this time I do really mean it.’

 

-+-

 

            Blaine sits cross-legged on the bed ensconced by piles of clothes and suitcases.

            ‘Are you sure you want to take that linen suit?  Surely it will just get creased?  Is London even hot enough for linen?’

Douglas laughs.

            ‘It can average around 66 degrees in summer, darling.’

            ‘Really?  It’s always raining there in the films…’

            ‘And it’s always snowing in New York.’  He laughs.  ‘You’ll have to come out in July and experience it for yourself, hmn?’

            ‘I’d like that.’  Blaine smiles softly and Douglas’ heart squeezes a little.

            ‘I’m going to miss you.’

            ‘I’m sorry.’

            ‘Don’t be.  I always promised you honesty and I expect the same in return.  You never have to apologise for your feelings, Blaine.  Please remember that.’  The smaller man dips his head a little, and Douglas clears his throat.  ‘What’s your plan now?  With June, I mean.’

            ‘Uh, the showcase is going to be in a couple of weeks – she’s got a pretty clear idea of the guest list, but is leaving the content up to me.’

            ‘That’s really good.  I’m so very proud of you, Blaine.’

            ‘Thank you.’

            ‘I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind me being there?’

            ‘Of course not!  I’d _love_ you to be there!’

Douglas smiles softly and walks over to sit beside the younger man.  He holds out his hand and Blaine takes it without hesitation, squeezing lightly.

            ‘I’m really going to miss you too: you know that, right?’  Blaine’s eyebrows are flat lines, his face the picture of heart-breaking sincerity.  It takes all of Douglas’ strength not to lean over and kiss him.

            ‘Kurt won’t mind my being there?’

            ‘Of course not.  Kurt and I…we’re not a couple –’

            ‘You said, but he’s in love with you and I know things are delicate.’  Douglas settles for running his thumb lightly over the back of Blaine’s knuckles.  Blaine’s eyes rest on where their hands are joined, and he huffs lightly.  Douglas frowns.  ‘What’s wrong?’

            ‘It’s June…  She…  If I don’t have her support, Douglas, I don’t know what I’ll do.’

            ‘You do have it though.’

            ‘She made it pretty clear before – she basically blackmailed me into staying single if I wasn’t with you, and right now – that’s fine, but it’s…’

            ‘It’s not what you want, not really.’

            ‘No.’

            ‘She doesn’t own you.  Believe me – I know the woman and her kind – it _will_ feel like she owns you.  But she doesn’t.  You were born for the stage, Blaine.  She’ll give you the best start you can hope for and then the rest is up to you.  This is the very beginning, and you have all the time in the world – you’re young.’

            ‘What if I’m not good enough?’  His voice is so quiet Douglas almost misses it.  He squeezes Blaine’s hand again.

            ‘I wish I could show you what I see when I look at you, but I think you’d become insufferable.’  Blaine’s trickle of laughter is Douglas’ reward and he smiles in response.  ‘Come on then – play me something?’

Blaine dips his dark head in acquiescence and Douglas pulls him up from the bed to follow him.

 

-+-

 

 **Kurt:** When can I see you?

 **Blaine:** June has me rehearsing day and night.  I’m sorry.  – Bx

 **Kurt:**   You do still eat don’t you?  How about lunch?

Kurt stares at his phone and waits for a response, his foot tapping impatiently against the leg of the table.  Santana raises an eyebrow.

 

 **Blaine:** I wish I could.  – Bx

 

He must have snorted his annoyance out loud.

            ‘Come on Lady Hummel – spill: what is causing you to pummel the furniture and deflate like the visual representation of your libido?’

            ‘Leave it, ’Tana.’

            ‘It’s obviously the hobbit.  What’s he done now?  Or not done…which is waaaaay more likely because otherwise you’d be pounding him behind that curtain rather than taking out your sexual frustration on that table.’

            ‘I haven’t seen him since the NYADA showcase.’

            ‘I know.  What of it?  It’s not like you spent an awful lot of time together before that.’

            ‘It’s just…I thought he wanted to be friends again, and friends actually see each other.  It’s like he is avoiding me or something, and that makes no sense.’

            ‘So go find him.  He’s rehearsing for the creepy WASP-lady, right?’  Kurt nods.  ‘If the gay mountain won’t go to tiny gay Mohamed…’

Kurt’s head tilts in thought, before he jumps up and heads for the door.  She smiles and gives him a little salute.  He rolls his eyes, and heads out of the loft before he can over think what he is doing.  Santana (he hates to admit it) is right – if he wants to know what is going on he needs to stop waiting and _do_ something. 

 

-+-

 

            He manages to blag his way into the building under the guise of being June’s errand boy – helped by the fact that he has a cardboard tray complete with coffee and cupcakes.  He has no idea where to go and so heads in the rough direction of the rehearsal rooms as indicated by the green-haired intern at the backstage door.  His footsteps echo slightly, squeaking as he heads purposefully down yet another grey breezeblock corridor – walking as if he knows where he is going is the only way he can prevent anyone he may come across asking him what he is doing there – though he sees no one.  The doors are all painted the same too-bright red and none have windows so he has to use a combination of his gut and strained hearing to see if he can work out which portal leads to his unsuspecting prize.  The cardboard is cutting into his fingers so he adjusts his grip on the tray whilst awkwardly leaning it outside the last door on the level, frustration nibbling at his chest.  His one comfort is that he had been let in in the first place – it suggests June is presently in the building, if not Blaine himself…or that the intern is completely clueless…  He sighs loudly in frustration as the door opens and a tall blonde almost collides with him.

            ‘Oh!  I’m so sorry!’  The accent is British.

            ‘That’s alright.  No harm done.’  Somehow, he managed to avoid wearing the coffee and Kurt is eternally grateful. 

            ‘Were you looking for someone, Kurt?’

He should have known from the accent.  Kurt finally looks properly at the man before him – at least he also looks utterly confused.

            ‘Adam, hi.’

            ‘You look good.’

            ‘Uh, you too.’

            ‘So…?’ 

            ‘Oh, of course, yes.  I was looking for someone.’  Kurt mentally curses himself for coming across so scatty, but Adam seems mildly amused if anything.

            ‘Who?  I do work here – I probably know who you’re looking for or at least where they are likely to be.’  The not so subtle hint that Adam knows Kurt is probably not supposed to be on the site rings as clearly as a bell and Kurt feels his cheeks flush.

            ‘Ms Dolloway –’

            ‘Oh, Blaine!  Blaine is _your_ Blaine.  I should have known.’  Adam looks genuinely amused by the idea, but gestures for Kurt to follow anyway. 

They make their way in silence down a level and Kurt tries his best to memorise the route instead of dwelling on the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

Adam eventually stops at another of the red doors and, with a gesture for Kurt to wait, disappears inside.

Kurt briefly considers making a run for it, but he is committed now.  He adjusts the cardboard tray again, mentally berating himself for listening to Santana of all people – he should have listened to Blaine and just accepted that the other man was busy…

The door opens suddenly revealing a grim-faced Adam.  The Brit says nothing, but simply holds the door open and allows Kurt entry.

            ‘Thanks.’

Adam nods and closes the door behind him.  Kurt stares at the closed door and desperately tries to find the courage to turn around.  He swallows, takes a deep breath, and then turns.

Blaine is perched on a piano stool, his legs crossed, and one elbow resting casually on the closed cover.  His expression is tired, but mildly amused, which Kurt takes to mean he is not going to be banished – at least not immediately anyway.  Blaine raises an eyebrow and Kurt remembers how to talk.

            ‘Coffee,’ he says redundantly as he gestures to the tray.

            ‘So I see.’

            ‘I’m interrupting...’

Blaine presses his lips together into a tight line.

            ‘I can go…?’  Kurt takes a step backwards.

            ‘Come here.’

Kurt makes his way to the piano and carefully puts the tray down on top of the battered practice instrument.  Blaine swivels slightly to track his movements.

            ‘I wanted to…  Santana.’  He finishes awkwardly, admonishing himself for seemingly reverting to his sixteen year old self.  ‘So what were you playing?’

            ‘Adam just gave me an earful.’

            ‘What?!  Why?’ 

            ‘Apparently I don’t deserve you.  But I know that so-’

            ‘I’m so, so sorry.  I have no idea why he’d think he had the right to talk to you like that!  I should never have come.  In my head this was a great idea, but it’s all going so horribly -’

            ‘It’s fine, Kurt.  Honestly.’

            ‘We…Adam and I never...uh…I mean, he wanted to, but I…uh…that’s probably why.’

            ‘You don’t need to defend someone else’s actions to me, Kurt.  I just thought you should know in case you bump into each other in the hall again, and you wonder why he’s giving you a strange look.’

            ‘What did you say to him?’

            ‘I simply reminded him that you’re your own person and your choices are your own.’

Kurt nods, not trusting himself to say anymore for fear of sounding even more like a yammering imbecile. 

            ‘Next time – just give me some warning and I’ll make sure you know which room I’m rehearsing in?’  Blaine smiles slightly - Kurt did not miss the invitation.  ‘Thank you for the coffee, by the way.’

Kurt dips his head in acknowledgement, before taking the hint and passing one of the takeaway cups to Blaine – their fingertips brush lightly. 

            ‘Don’t let me stop you practicing; I know you’re busy.’

            ‘You were right as usual – I do need to eat sometimes.’

They smile at each other and the awkwardness seems to melt away.  Kurt clears his throat, and Blaine takes a sip of his coffee.

            ‘How about dinner tomorrow night?’

            ‘I’d love that -’ 

            ‘Good – it’s a date.’  Kurt interrupts before taking a sip of his coffee to hide his delight.

            ‘I’d love to but I –’

            ‘I didn’t mean “date” date, unless – that is, unless you’d like it to be?’  Kurt is aware that he is rambling, but Blaine’s expression is confusing him.  ‘What’s wrong?’  You can tell me.’

            ‘It’s nothing.  I’d love nothing more than to have dinner with you, Kurt.’ 

            ‘Good.  Great.’  Kurt raises an eyebrow in concerned confusion, but Blaine has turned back to the stack of sheet music beside him, and is seemingly trying to find something.  Kurt notices that most of the music is hand-written.

            ‘Composing again?  Are you doing original pieces for your big debut?’

            ‘Hmn?’  Blaine looks up to meet Kurt’s eyes and Kurt is happy to see that whatever had been troubling the other man seems to have passed.  Blaine takes a sip of his coffee before opening the instrument’s cover and placing a couple of sheets of manuscript paper in front of him.  ‘I’m just rearranging some pieces a bit.  Nothing too exciting.’

            ‘You should, you know – do some of your own pieces I mean.’  Kurt takes another sip of his coffee before peering at the sheet music.

            ‘No one would want to hear that, Kurt.  June suggested a couple of pieces – keeping it classic -’

            ‘Okay, but that doesn’t mean you can’t put your twist on them.’  He interrupts.  ‘More than changing the key, anyway.’ 

            ‘If this goes well maybe I can think about being a bit more original, but for now –’

            ‘They will want to see _you_ , Blaine.  Not some rehash of the usual show tunes and oldies they have all heard a thousand times before.  Show them who _you_ are – who they’re buying into - and they’ll eat out of the palm of your well-manicured hands.  You’re mesmerising when you’re doing _you_.’

            ‘June –’

            ‘Should be telling you exactly what I am.’

            ‘Kurt.’  It is a warning.

            ‘Fine.’  Kurt rolls his eyes, acquiescing for the moment by nudging Blaine and forcing him to move over on the stool so that Kurt can sit beside him.  ‘Play me something?’

 

-+-

 

 **Blaine:** Can we rain check dinner?  Not feeling great.  Going to get an early night.  –Bx

 

Kurt groans causing Santana to steal his cell in order to read his messages.

            ‘I don’t get it.’

            ‘How many times has he cancelled on you now?’  She scrolls up to read the older messages.

            ‘Every time, ’Tana.  Coming to his practices – not a problem (so long as June’s not around anyway) but any time I try to organise anything more…’  He turns to face his friend, running one hand through his hair in frustration.

            ‘Your texts are frankly the most boring thing I’ve ever read.  Berry’s are less vanilla and far more interesting, Kurt, and I _never_ thought I would say that because I know you’re secretly all kinds of kinky.’

            ‘Not for want of trying I assure you.’

            ‘Oh…!’  Her smile quickly melts into a frown, and Kurt leans forward.  ‘It’s obvious really.’  She drops the cell into Kurt’s lap before getting up from the sofa and heading towards the fridge.

            ‘What?  What’s obvious?’  Kurt follows her, fully aware that she will probably require some form of payment for whatever insight she is about to give him, and utterly ready to pay her in blood if need-be, or his first-born, because, let’s face it _that’s_ not even on the cards unless he works out what is going on.

            ‘Are you sure you want to hear this, Kurt?  I mean – you really should have figured this out about him for yourself.’

             ‘Just tell me?’

            ‘It’s about money.  It’s almost always about money…or sex, but…well.’  She looks him up and down before opening the fridge to a welcome puff of cool, mildly salad-scented air.

He is confused on two accounts – the first, that Santana has not dragged this out or tried to make any form of deal with him, and the second, by the concept that money could have anything to do with anything.

            ‘Uh – that makes no sense.’

            ‘It makes perfect sense and if you don’t get it then I don’t think I can help you.’  She seems disgusted by something or the lack thereof in their fridge, and closes the door.  ‘I’m thinking takeout.  Want to go halves seeing as you’re suddenly and, unless you figure it out, forever free?’

He nods, frowning, as he unlocks his cell and scrolls back through his messages with Blaine.  He is dimly aware of Santana ordering their usual in the background as he scans for hidden messages – for some hint of what his flatmate can apparently see so clearly.

            ‘ _Dios_ , you look like you’re going to have a hernia.’

            ‘Thanks.’

            ‘Ask yourself this, Kurt.  Who used to buy when you went out before?  I’m guessing it was the dapper little public school boy, and I’m betting it felt real romantic to be wined and dined, right?  But he’s cut off from the parental Trust Fund.  Everything he has right now is Douglas’, so he’s not exactly going to want to have his ex (who he is still living with, right? – how wanky can you get!) bankroll your dates…’  Kurt feels the sense of what his friend spells out for him land on his chest like a lead weight.  ‘Exactly; your boy is most likely embarrassed.  Whatever you do – don’t draw attention to it, and don’t offer to pay – that will make it so much worse – hell, you should know, right.  It’s time to start getting inventive – use that under-tapped and underutilised part of your kinky brain to come up with imaginative options otherwise it’s never seeing any hobbit action again.’

He glances at the closed curtain to his sanctuary and can see the completely obvious _truth_ writ in blank and gold silk hanging in pride of place by his full-length standing mirror.   

_He wanted to get you a gift, and I know you’ve always wanted it…_

_I’d love nothing more than to have dinner with you, Kurt._

_Apparently I don’t deserve you.  But I know that…_

It suddenly all makes so much sense and he had been so very, very blind.  The worst thing is that he had _known_.  Deep down he had known that money was a touchy subject with Blaine – back when Blaine had been with Douglas it had been one of the reasons Blaine had taken so long to get a new cell phone. 

It had been the reason Blaine had not mentioned that Douglas had gifted him an apartment. 

It had been the reason Blaine had not discussed his seemingly ever growing designer wardrobe even though Kurt had been _dying_ to quiz him on just how comfortable Barker Blacks were... 

It had been a sure-fire topic to shut Blaine down every time Kurt had self-consciously jibed Blaine about Douglas’ wealth out of his own misplaced sense of insecurity.

He had been a complete and utter ass.

            ‘You’re a genius, Santana.’

            ‘I know.  Now pay up - I’m sure I just heard food arrive and this genius needs her brain food.’

 

-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your continued support! As promised here's the next chapter. Only 4 to go! I'll be finishing Morning Song next and taking requests again so please feel free to hit me up with ideas! <3


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